


A Comet Streaks Across the Sky

by Charliesmusings



Series: Fashionista, How Do You Look? [4]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: ...adding it anyway, Fluff, Other, a love letter to ADP, aaaand a big ol thank you to a friend, and punks <3, author gets emotional about punk music and zouxie for 700 words, brief optimistic nihilism?, does that need to be tagged?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charliesmusings/pseuds/Charliesmusings
Summary: Punk rock sure has a way of opening hearts and dazzling minds, doesn't it?A Zouxie + ADP Drabble
Relationships: Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan/Zoe
Series: Fashionista, How Do You Look? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066058
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	A Comet Streaks Across the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feather_Dancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feather_Dancer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In the media spotlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526946) by [Feather_Dancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feather_Dancer/pseuds/Feather_Dancer). 



> This is a huge ol' thank you to Feather_Dancer because they wrote a FANTASTIC fic in this au, and I wanted to do something in return!

Percussion that rolls through the body. Lights that bathe everything in passion. The raw buzz of a cherry red Spellcaster chord. The bravado of wailing microphone feedback. The smooth smoke of the voice amplified by it.

The secret smile from the guitarist to the drummer when their back is turned to the crowd.

Douxie shoots Zoe a wink, waits until they see her livewire smile, and then whips back around to face the crowd, flipping their hair in a righteous headbang, as they go into the guitar riff. They don’t often take center stage, but with Zoe behind them—having their literal back—they feel as if they could do anything. They fly into a slide on their knees, stopping square in the middle of the stage, as ADP’s lead singer steps back to allow them room. The singer steps to where Douxie had been, as they manage a leap to their feet, shredding the solo like only they could have.

The chords are flying by, and the music feels as a living being does, twisting around each and every audience member, touching them all in a different way.

One person feels as though they’d like to weep. One girl steels herself to take her crush’s hand, and maybe even kiss her that night. Because the music makes her feel brave. One boy feels like he’s been lit on fire in the best way, and can suddenly understand how nice it is to live. One person feels a pull on their chest. They want to do that—what Douxie is doing.

Others, still, will have less profound thoughts beyond pure enjoyment, but this, especially, is a gift, because truly, what could be better than enjoying oneself for even just a moment?

Hearts break and hearts mend and fingers form the classic rock salute, and hair is whipped messily and it does not matter, and nothing matters, but everything matters, and it is all good. It is all beautiful.

As Douxie reaches the end, they step back into their place, and the singer takes over once more, and it is a perfect hand-off. Douxie had amped the crowd, riling them up, building the thrall, and as their lead singer belts the pivotal note of the song, the crowd erupts.

Douxie turns again, catches Zoe’s eye, and it is the sheer volume of their rehearsals only that keeps them from slipping on their next chord.

Because Zoe is looking at them like they’d hung the stars.

She realizes she’s been caught just a little too late, and flushes red, though lucky for her, the stage lights make it nearly impossible to see. Douxie knows her too well, though. He beams.

Zoe sticks out her tongue from behind her set and goes into an epic percussion rhythm, as the final chorus begins, ready to help them land their song squarely in knock-out territory.

And it works.

The audience is no stadium size, and they are, in fact, performing in one of the smallest local venues around. But it hosts smalltime bands, and attracts a fairly regular crowd; especially those in the punk scene, who appreciate the sounds of undiscovereds.

There’s always something so much more magical about gathering in a tiny space to celebrate the kind of music that they know hasn’t sold out to a record label that would sooner care about sales stats than good lyrics.

Ash Dispersal Pattern is one such favored band among the punks like that. The lyrics that Douxie writes feel like coming home to plenty of the people in their regular attendees, and while ADP sometimes seems like it has a rotating cast of band members—sans Douxie, mind, who has been there from the very beginning—they wouldn’t have it any other way. ADP, to a small, tightly-knit underground punk scene in the vast city of New York, feels like a brilliant comet in an otherwise empty black sky.

Douxie thinks they can understand that.

It is the way Zoe feels, to them.

\--

As their set ends, and most of the band disembarks the stage, curtains drawing closed so that they can strike in peace, Douxie finds themself alone for a moment, standing among the amps and the cords which criss-cross stage right, and in the still air, which pounds against their blown eardrums in the way that means they had an outright electrifying show, they slip their eyes closed, and breathe.

And then they hear Zoe approach.

And there are arms around their neck.

And their arms wind around her waist.

And her head buries into their shoulder.

And all is well.

_A comet, indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> Has an accompanying moodboard if anyone is curious! https://ice-demigod-skrael.tumblr.com/post/641515048617066496/a-comet-streaks-across-the-sky-a-short-thank-you


End file.
